Asphyxia
by binary-express
Summary: He knows that it's his fault. He knows what he needs to do. It's only another assassination, really. The last he would ever fulfil. The easiest.


They say that those of the Creed are not afraid of death.

Does that mean willing it upon oneself is morally righteous?

It doesn't matter anymore. There is only emptiness, a black void that can not anymore be filled with simple pleasures - food, drink, wealth.

There is no one that will care if the vacant shell disappears, just goes missing one day, the rotting corpse perhaps washing up on a riverbank sometime in the future.

No one.

There is no reason to live on.

Everything that matters has been taken away, snatched from protective fingertips. All that is loved has been stolen.

The brother that was killed. The limb that was lost. The best friend that is at fault.

At least, what little best friend there is left...

Perhaps the best friend was a facade. A facade placed to hide an arrogant bastard.

It was a strong facade and when it was destroyed, it hurt.

Or perhaps blindness and naivety was the curtain that masked the bastard, perhaps there was no facade at all.

Perhaps everything was subconsciously hidden.

Perhaps it is _all _his fault!

This is why he stands atop the Master's fortress. All he can see is silky water, smoothness broken by gentle ripples.

This is all he wants to see.

There is no more reason for him to live; there is nothing he can give the world.

There is no other solution.

There is no hesitation in his stride as he shuffles forward, shoulders bent, tears slowly dripping down his nose.

It is his fault that his brother is dead, his fault that he has no arm. It is his fault that they almost got the treasure.

Everything is his fault.

He shivers violently as he steps onto the short wooden platform, out of guilt more than the icy breeze.

He won't shiver because of the cold. He can't feel anything anymore, nothing except the sick in his stomach caused by musing over the disaster on feet he has become. This is why he has to end his life.

Clenching his jaw, he straightens and pushes his shoulders back.

Stepping off the fortress was another thing he had to do, like killing one of them, being loyal to the Master.

Telling this to himself causes a strong wave of calm to flood through his body. It was the same calm he experienced before he had to fulfil an important contract. This task was only another assassination anyway, the only difference being that it was his own life he was going to snuff.

He takes another step and another, forcing his feet on despite the fact that they are dragging like lead. Before long, he is at the end of the platform. Another step and he will have completed the task, it will be all over.

The easiest assassination he has ever completed.

He raises his remaining arm, taking no comfort in imagining the water surrounding him. Instead, he thinks about the nothingness that waits for him after he has finished the task. It is the ultimate reward.

"I love you, Kadar."

He bends his knees and grabs the wooden beam with his hand, using his powerful legs to push himself up and forward.

Without thinking about it, without forcing himself to, his body curls forward so that he is falling head-first. He sticks his arm out and silently begs for his brother's forgiveness.

He falls forever, wind pushing his hood back to his shoulders. The water below him doesn't seem to be getting any closer, doesn't seem to rush up to meet him like the hay used to.

He just wishes it would.

He just wishes he could fulfil the assassination already.

With an almighty splash, he smashes into the water, the force of his fall plunging him down.

He will never admit it, but it hurts. He is glad, though. He is glad the first thing he feels since that day is pain. He is glad because he deserves it.

His mouth is clamped shut and had he breathed in, he would have inhaled freezing water. It probably would have killed him faster, but he was intent on keeping his breath held, so the thought never occurred.

He pinches his nose with his fingers as he waves his elbow to try to keep himself down.

His lungs start to burn and he smiles sadly, still begging for forgiveness.

It is almost done. He only has a little bit of time left on this earth...

His lungs are on fire when he starts to see black spots.

He has forgotten which way is up, and, as he glances around, there was nothing to show where up actually is.

The spots start to get bigger and bigger and soon he can't feel the water around him and he can't see anything at all.

He has blacked-out.

During his black-out, though, he dreams. He dreams that he is in bed, warm and safe and dry again. Through heavily-lidded eyes, he swears he sees a sopping wet novice assassin press a gentle kiss to his lips.


End file.
